Snakebite: Chet's POV
by itshowyoulive
Summary: I don't excel at first person and Chet's voice is the hardest for me to capture so a bit of an experiment. An idea of what might have been going through Chet's thoughts during the events in Snakebite and a bit of conjuncture about a missing scene while at Rampart. Can't remember seeing anything about Chet's POV so sorry if this has been done before. T to be safe for MILD language.


20 minutes. I've been sitting up here for 20 minutes. 20 minutes of pure hell. 20 minutes of watching my friend slowly die. 20 minutes of being pelted with dust as the big red rig roars down the canyon roads as quickly as the driver dares to go. 20 minutes of my heart trying to leave my own chest. 5 minutes since I last checked his vitals, as feeble an action as that is. 10 minutes since he lost consciousness. 10 minutes until our estimated time of arrival at Rampart General. 3 minutes that I've been staring at the venom extractor in my hand. 5 minutes since I last used the device on the man slowly slipping away while I can't do a damn thing to help him. 15 minutes since the device became more or less useless. The blood containing the venom only sticks around for so long and then there's nothing you can do to draw it back no matter how many times you press the blood sucker against the wound.

Before I can check it the frustration flares and takes over. I feel my own eyes widen in surprise as the venom extractor flies from my hand, almost in slow motion it arcs in a weird yet beautiful way, glinting in the sun before it slams into a boulder near the side of the road. I watch as the cylindrical device shatters into a million pieces that scatter like spilled diamonds across the road. The plunger in the center of the device survives impact and slowly bounces down the road as if chasing us and trying to catch up with Big Red.

My eyes catch sight of Marco driving the squad behind us. It's a bizarre fireman's parade we're in. His eyes are wide with shock and fear. He's practically driving the squad standing up trying to see what's happening on top of the engine he's been following for 21 minutes. Oh dear lord, he thinks…he thinks…I can't bring myself to think the thought Marco is thinking. I shake my head and flash him the okay sign. I move closer to my patient and lift his wrist high to show Marco I'm taking the pulse of a still living person. He sinks back into the bench seat and I can see him let out a breath he must have been holding since I let the extractor fly.

That's going to be a hard one to explain. 'Well, Cap. It's like this. I lost it and...' Yeah, that's going to go over like a lead balloon. Maybe Marco will back me up on a story about it just falling off the engine. We hit a bump and it just went flying? I hope those things aren't too expensive because I have a feeling I'm paying for the replacement no matter what load of bull I try to serve once I'm off the top of this engine.

I pick up the radio and call in the new vitals, such as they are. Respirations and pulse give only a small picture of what's happening, but it's all I can do. His pulse is running a race but so faintly I'm afraid that the next time I check it won't be there and his breaths are coming with more and more difficulty. He's slipping away and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I'm not a paramedic. I'm just a hose jockey. I'm not qualified to do anything more than apply a bandage.

Apply a bandage…well, if I'm no longer playing vampire on Johnny's leg I might as well bandage it and keep the wound free from all the dust flying around up here. I grab a few alcohol swabs and a bandage from the box still sitting open next to Johnny from when he started his own IV. I still can't believe he did that. Stuck that needle right up in his own arm. I stifle the chuckle rising in my throat. We all know about Johnny's aversion to needles. Roy told us all about the time they were in training and he was showing the class how to give an injection using Johnny's arm as the subject. We had a good laugh over Roy telling Johnny to relax, that the fluid in the syringe was sterile water not heroin. But, Johnny like he always does, put the job first and stuck a needle into his own arm. I kinda wish he would stop doing things that impress me, it makes it that much harder to target him next time the Phantom comes to visit the station.

I swab down the bloody mess that his calf has become and get it as clean as I can and carefully apply a nice big bandage over the cuts he made on his own leg to help release the venom. I'm thinking about how the two of us got off to a rocky start. He's just so easy to target, how could I let so many primo jokes go unrecognized? We still tease each other and even get on each other's nerves more often than Cap appreciates, but friction happens with all us guys from time to time. You can't throw six men into tight living quarters and expect it to be sunshine, lollipops and rainbows. It's just much louder when it's between Johnny and me. But, and I hate to admit this, Johnny has become a good friend and man, it's tearing me apart not being able to do anything. I shift back over to sit closer to his side so that I can monitor his breathing better.

I wish Roy was here. Of course, maybe if Roy was here none of us would be doing what we're doing at the moment. Cap keeps looking at us through the window on the back of the engine's cab. Not sure how much he can actually see through that thing, but I keep seeing his head turn back and can guess that he's trying to see what's going on. Hope he didn't see the flight of the extractor. Mike is roaring down the road faster than he normally would, or maybe it just seems that way because I'm out here instead of in there. Marco keeps sending me eye messages and it's getting annoying. We've been partners too long. Everyone talks about how Roy and Johnny communicate without words, well if they'd spend a bit more time in front of the flames like Marco and me they'd see that we do it too. It's hard to talk behind those masks and even harder to make yourself understood. All of us develop silent ways of communicating. Good partnerships just do it better than bad ones. And here I sit trying to play paramedic without the training or most of the tools to do it right. Wish I was on a dumpster fire right now instead of sitting on top of this rig.

I'm always teasing the guys about how easy they have it, you know hanging around the air conditioned hospital and all, but I know these guys work hard, lots of days harder than the rest of us. In return for my teasing they play up that I'm not smart enough to do their job. Again, we all know it isn't true, it's just letting off steam.

Truth is, I almost walked into that office of Roy's myself back in the early days of the program. I wasn't sure I wanted to stay on the hose and maybe paramedic work was the way to go. I was this close to doing it too. But, then I watched our rescue guys in action. Truth be told, I could learn all the technical stuff the guys know, but they have a skill I don't and it makes all the difference in how they do the job.

Have you ever watched Johnny at work? I mean really watched the man. All day long he's bumbling around the station, falling into my traps and generally kind of making a fool of himself. It's not because he's stupid or clumsy. It's because he trusts people too fully and is kind of naïve for all his worldly attitude. Anyway, his people skills don't seem to be too top notch in most situations, but put him in front of a patient or their family member and he's a different person. Roy too in some ways. No matter what is going on at the station or in their private lives they change when they step in front of a patient. Johnny just seems to know what a person needs. Sometimes it's a firm hand where he has to take control and tell a patient or a family member to get it under control and other times he seems to know that what is needed most is that crooked smile of his or a hand on a shoulder. I don't have that. It's just the plain truth. I'm more black and white I guess. I see things as I see them and I have a hard time changing my behavior. It's why I'm an acquired taste, you see. Just think of the last diet I put the guys on, or the last time I got a really good grip on something that annoyed the heck out of Johnny. Cap says I'm just not much of a people person. I just don't know when to stop. And, that's okay because that's what makes me one of the best linemen around. I don't take my orders from a fire. I don't back down until the Cap tells me to. My skills are perfect for telling a blaze to go to hell, but you can't tell a patient that. My mama always taught us kids to go with our strengths and I believe I did just that. Yet, here I am, playing paramedic on top of Big Red. Not on any old patient, but on my friend. I hate this. I almost wish I had something else to throw, but I can't afford it.

I send another update to Rampart, things are getting worse and even I can see that. The slight blue tinge around his lips and nail beds is getting deeper and there is a fine sheen of sweat covering his face and neck. Damn, he better keep breathing, neither one of us would ever live it down if I had to do mouth to mouth. I can't help the shudder that comes over me at the thought. Johnny, man, you better not do that to me.

Thank heavens I finally see the cement and glass towers rising up out of that empty field they planted that hospital in. Rampart.

Getting Johnny off the engine is a bit more complicated than getting him up, but we manage and before I know it I'm running alongside the gurney as if I were a certified paramedic. I follow that sucker right into the treatment room and I have to confess a moment of surprise when nobody tells me to get out. Roy is standing in the corner. This feels weird, it's wrong. Our positions are switched and nobody is switching them back. How come Roy hasn't pushed me out of the way? How come it isn't him hovering over Johnny and talking with Dr. Brackett? Damn if he doesn't look a little pale and diaphoretic himself. Dr. Brackett gives Johnny a quick once over and seems satisfied with my bandage in any case.

I almost sit on the floor when Doctor Brackett tells us it's another 20 minutes until Johnny can actually be given the antivenin. Roy looks like he's going to hurl or worse, pass out. Dixie takes him out of the room, but I stay. This is getting stranger and stranger.

I spend the next few minutes pacing the floor near Johnny's treatment bed. Finally Dixie accuses me of trying to dig a trench in her floor and ushers me out to find a cup of coffee. The last thing I see is her finely manicured nail pointing me towards the doctor's lounge as the treatment room door closes behind me. Fine, I know when I'm not wanted. I feel guilty leaving Johnny alone, but Dixie is with him and I know she'll take care of him. The relationship between those two is a weird one. Brother and sister is the closest I can come to explaining it, but even that doesn't quite describe the level of respect and caring that those two share.

I push the lounge door open and startle Roy who is sitting in a chair at the table. I can't be sure but I think his head was in his hands as I entered the door.

"Hey man, the coffee hot?" Roy just grunts in reply to my question. I help myself to a mug and pour the steaming liquid into my cup. I walk back to the table and pull out a chair opposite Roy. "He's going to be fine, you know."

I wasn't expecting the reaction I got, I can tell you that. Roy pushed his chair back so quickly it fell over, clattering to the floor. "You don't know that!"

I can't help that I slam my coffee cup on the table sloshing the dark liquid so that it forms a river flowing off the table and onto the previously spotless floor. "Whoa, man! What's wrong with you! All I said-"

"You don't know that he's going to be okay! You aren't a doctor! Hey, you aren't even a paramedic! Johnny is dying in there because there wasn't a paramedic there to help him and it's all my fault!"

Okay, that paramedic part smarted a little, but look there we got to the root of this problem a lot quicker than I expected. I want to keep yelling, but maybe the guys are teaching me something after all. I keep my voice level and soft. "Roy, there was a paramedic there who treated Johnny. Johnny did everything he needed to while you took care of the patients you were bringing in. Why do you think it was your fault?"

Roy stops and picks up the chair before sitting back down. I can't help but notice his hands are shaking. "Why is it your fault?"

"I left the handy talky down at the wreck. Just as we got everyone loaded I realized what I'd done and I called Johnny back and asked him to get the radio. If I had remembered the gear he never would have had to go back down there."

I step around to Roy's side of the table and put a hand on his shoulder before speaking my words of wisdom. "Roy, there isn't a Los Angeles County firefighter or paramedic that can do guilt quite as well as you." I take a few quick steps back anticipating his reaction. Lucky for me I get the one I was hoping for instead of the one I was expecting. Roy's soft chuckle bubbles up and the tension in the room dissipates. I decide it's safe to take my seat again, but remember the coffee puddle I created first and grab a few paper towels to clean that up. Once I'm sitting down Roy speaks again, this time much more calmly than before. "I haven't felt so helpless since before the paramedic bill passed."

"You don't know what it felt like to be on top of Big Red."

Roy looks at me for the first time since I entered the room and I can see something like understanding come over his face, but before he could say anything else the lounge door opens and our attention shifts to Dixie. "Hey, those 20 minutes are almost up, you two want to be there when Dr. Brackett checks the skin test?"

Roy beats me to it, "We're coming, be there as soon as we put our coffee cups up. Thanks, Dix."

She smiles and closes the door. We make short work of rinsing our cups and setting them to dry. Roy's hand clasps my shoulder as we walk down the hall. "Thanks, Chet." "No problem, Roy. Um, hey, by the way, you need a new venom extractor."

"We need…why?"

"Long story, pal. I'll tell you later."

A few moments later Roy is still looking somewhat shell shocked and he still has a hard time getting right up to the bed where his partner is being treated, but we are both in the room as Doctor Brackett pronounces judgment on Johnny's chances.

"No reaction. Carol start the antivenin, IV. 10 vials to start with."

I wasn't sure I was hearing what I thought I was hearing. "That mean he's going to be alright?"

"I'd say he has an excellent chance right now."

"I'm going to go tell the other guys."

For the first time since I heard Johnny's voice come over the radio I feel like things really are going to be okay. The looks on the guys' faces as I tell them the good news is one I'll never forget and we all walk with a lighter step as we return to the treatment room, a much different fireman's parade than earlier.

10 minutes since we got the good news. 10 minutes since my heart settled back where it belongs and 10 minutes since the life preserving antivenin started flowing through Johnny's IV. 2 minutes since we all started back to our vehicles to return to the station and 1 minute that Cap's hand has been resting on my shoulder without saying a word.

"So, Chet, anything you want to tell me?"

"No, nothing in particular Cap, why?"

"Well, it's like this pal, while we were waiting I checked on the cost of a new venom extractor."

"Oh."

The End


End file.
